Fic: "100 Days" [Glee, Kurt/Blaine, 7.5/10]
Title: 100 Days
Author: dazzlebug
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kurt and Blaine have been best friends (and nothing more) since the age of six. Now college graduates, they take a roadtrip around the USA, visiting every state in 100 days. Fifty states. Two boys. One love story.
Disclaimer: I paint the pictures; I just borrow the names.
This fic will be updated twice-weekly on Wednesdays and Sundays at 5pm EST/10pm GMT (estimated). Also available on ffnet, Tumblr, S&C and AO3 (complete chapters only). Previous chapters here.
Day 069: Saturday 24th November, 2012
Tipping (Nebraska)
“Hold it right there, Blaine Anderson.”
“I was just inches from a clean getaway!”
“I… Wait; I know this. Terms of Endearment?”
The neon lights buzzed, flickering in and out of their bright luminescence almost in time with the strobe lighting over the dance floor, and Blaine sipped his beer slowly, forearms on the railing of The Max’s upper level as he surveyed the crowd. He could see Kurt below, swaying in the center of the packed dance floor with a stranger wrapped around him. Every so often, Kurt would glance up at Blaine and smirk-it was all for show. Blaine knew Kurt was his, and though a twinge of jealousy was puddled in his gut, he paid it no mind.
Tackling Kurt around the waist in the middle of a dark and pretty spooky maze wasn’t exactly planned, but hearing him say those words-Yes, Dad. I love Blaine, too-had caused an abrupt about-turn in Blaine’s mood. The pedestal suddenly hadn’t seemed so tall.
No longer were his feelings a weight dragging behind him-now, they were an anchor, and he was biding his time. He was sure of his feelings, and he was sure of Kurt’s, but what he wasn’t sure of was how it was all going to be reconciled. It had to come to a head sooner or later, and he was growing more and more certain that, with the words almost constantly on the tip of his tongue, he would be the one to address it.
But he could wait. Kurt was an expert at dodging danger, and what they had was still cloaked in it. Blaine wasn’t about to back him into a corner; being on the road with nowhere to run except twenty feet away, it would simply be using the situation to his advantage.
Taking another sip of his beer, his eyes roved the interior of the club. He couldn’t imagine that there was any place in Omaha better for the LGBT crowd-or anyone, really, taking into account the ratio of obviously straight couples littered across the dance floor-to blow off steam on a Saturday night. The place was expansive, with different rooms playing different genres of music; the cover was low; the drinks were cheap. And the music itself… The DJ in this room was playing a mix of dance and pop, and-with the exception of an occasional foray into nineties classics, of which the currently playing Groove Is In The Heart was one-he seemed to know exactly what the people of Omaha wanted: music to lose themselves to.
The next time Blaine glanced down, Kurt was nowhere to be seen. He drained the contents of his bottle, left his spot, and made his way downstairs to the bar to wait for Kurt to come back to him-which, sooner or later, he always did. Blaine could count on at least that much.
Just as he was accepting another beer from the bartender, a familiar hand settled over his own. Kurt tipped the bottle to his own mouth and drank deeply, eyes on Blaine as he swallowed.
“Having fun out there?” Blaine asked, voice raised over the music, and Kurt smiled, leaning closer.
“I swear to God, that guy must have a dick about the size of that building we saw yesterday,” he replied, and Blaine chuckled. He could already tell that the ‘Penis of the Plains,’ as native Nebraskans referred to it, was going to be a running joke for years to come.
“Did he warn you, at least?” Blaine asked nonchalantly. “Because that’s the kind of thing you have to warn a guy about.”
Kurt tucked a finger beneath Blaine’s chin and answered him with a kiss before turning his back to the bar and leaning on his elbows. Blaine’s eyes swept downward to his long legs, the heel of one foot tapping to the beat.
“Come on,” Kurt said after a moment, fingers wrapping around Blaine’s wrist. “This song always makes me want to move.”
They wound and pushed their way through the crowd together, the press of bodies swallowing them and pushing them flush as they walked with the beat. Once Kurt had found them a spot, he looped one arm around Blaine’s waist, the fingers of his free hand playing with Blaine’s tie as he bit his lip and shimmied his shoulders back and forth.
“You’re in a good mood,” Blaine observed with a grin.
Kurt leaned down, saying directly into Blaine’s ear, “I’m dancing with you. Of course I’m in a good mood.”
“What, that other guy wasn’t keeping you happy?” Blaine joked.
“You’ve got moves, remember?” Kurt answered, before scrunching his face and shooting him a look. “Too soon?”
Blaine shook his head; Delaware was far enough in the rear view that they could laugh about it. “Speaking of moves, mister,” he said, “I haven’t seen the patented Kurt Hummel shimmy since senior prom.”
“The classics never go out of style,” Kurt quipped, furrowing his brow and circling his hips into Blaine’s.
Blaine’s hands slid around to Kurt’s ass, giving back as good as he was getting. If either of them left this dance floor without an uncomfortable hard-on, it would be a miracle.
“Have you ever thought about being tied up?” Kurt said into his ear, quite unexpectedly; Blaine groaned and dropped his head to Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt chuckled, and asked, “Should I take that as a yes?”
“Okay, A) where did that even come from, and B) do we have anything in the R.V.?”
“It was just something I was thinking about last night. I might have a pair of handcuffs somewhere.”
“You don’t need to tell me why,” Blaine managed, turning his head and grazing the line of Kurt’s neck with his teeth.
When he raised his head again, it was to see the lights coming up before dropping straight back down; he caught the briefest, arresting glimpse of irises awash in stormy blue. It was the same shade that Blaine now associated with those moments when Kurt’s breathing would speed up right before he came.
“What about some classic Blaine moves?” Kurt asked with a nudge, pulling Blaine back to himself. “Because I remember a certain sixteen-year-old version of you jumping on the desks in Mrs. Beck’s History class, singing Robin Thicke to that poor kid-“
“There aren’t any desks in here,” Blaine interrupted smoothly, his finger against Kurt’s lips.
Kurt twisted his head away, put his mouth to Blaine’s ear and rolled his earlobe between his teeth. In a low voice that Blaine struggled to hear over the music, he sang, “When I get you, you’ll know, babe…”
“Shut up,” Blaine groaned, turning to catch Kurt’s lips in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss.
As the electric intensity of Goldfrapp’s Strict Machine coiled its way through the crowd toward them, strong hands bruised their grasp into Blaine’s hips, and he found himself being turned around to face the rest of the clubbers.
Shivering despite his sky-rocketing body heat, Blaine dropped his head back to rest on Kurt’s shoulder and turned his head to speak directly into his ear. On an inhale, he caught the scent of Hugo Boss intermingled with a tang of sweat, and as Kurt’s arms crept around his middle to pull him closer, he barely held back a groan of approval. ”This definitely isn’t how we did it at prom,” he finally said, reaching back to cup his fingers to the nape of Kurt’s neck.
"What do you want tonight?" Kurt purred. There was a deep, thrilling undertone to his voice and Blaine pressed his forehead to the heat of Kurt’s neck, body becoming more and more relaxed as he found the pattern of the beat and gave himself over to it. Kurt’s fingertips slid between the buttons of Blaine’s shirt, contracting and pressing into the skin of his torso, and he hooked two fingers into a belt loop to pull Blaine even closer, almost as if he was trying to fuse and meld them into a single entity, one made up of a symbiotic, rhythmic give and take. They moved together as the song continued, the bass running dirty and low and so synthesized that it kept them suspended in surroundings of nothing but the feeling of body on body. "Tell me what you want."
Blaine wound his fingers up into Kurt’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and tugging so that Kurt met his gaze. He circled his hips back in time with the two sweeps of bass that preceded the second bridge, thrilling at his own approximation of wonderful electric as it set his every nerve aflame with Kurt’s full mouth inching closer, closer, closer until his eyes blurred and shuttered, because this was what Blaine wanted.
He wanted the feeling of the firm, assured body moving in time with his own. He wanted the surprising and welcome gentility of the first kiss, and then for it to turn to pure filth soon after. He wanted the dance floor to momentarily swim beneath his feet as Kurt flipped him back around so that they faced one another, lips breaking apart before crushing together once more. He wanted these worshipping hands running the lines and planes of him, hairs standing on end as he surrendered and moaned and poured heat into a kiss that seared him with its obscenity. He wanted this contact, this touch, this sensation of his axis tilting further and further forward.
"I want you," he all but groaned into Kurt’s ear after one last sweep of his tongue along Kurt’s lower lip, eyes opening into sharper focus with the song’s fade into a punchy remix of Robyn’s With Every Heartbeat.
Not this song, Blaine almost whined aloud. He couldn’t have this song ringing in his ears when he’d only just found his footing in this crazy mindfuck of a situation.
Kurt tensed against him and mouthed, Come with me. Blaine happily took Kurt’s hand and left his thoughts on the dance floor. The song followed them, however, as Kurt led him from the main room and out through the main hallway to the doors of the nightclub complex. They were running, taking a right as soon as they were outside. Kurt pulled him into a narrow, dark alley, and Blaine hesitated halfway with Kurt’s hand still tangled up in his own. It was starting to rain, and he took in deep lungfuls of freezing air to soothe his racing heart and the rush of blood in his ears before it all continued on its journey south.
"Hey," Kurt said softly, thumb rubbing back and forth over Blaine’s knuckles as he took a step forward. Kurt closed the space between them and tilted Blaine’s chin upward with a gentle hand, and Blaine felt a ghost of breath exhaled across his lips just before Kurt recaptured his mouth in a slow, deep kiss.
“Maybe we can make it happen, baby,” Blaine heard from inside, his mind filling in what was muffled through brick and mortar. “We could keep trying but things will never change.”
It was mere moments until the heavens truly opened overhead; the rain fell in fat drops onto his skin and Blaine fell with them, giving himself over entirely. He pressed his palms into the small of Kurt’s back to pull him in closer, and god-he could have cried with the rightness of it all: Kurt’s lips reaffirming a daily claim; Kurt’s body pressing tightly against him; Kurt’s love coursing into his own bloodstream.
“Okay?” Kurt breathed, and Blaine nodded quickly.
Grinning, Kurt curved his palm to the back of Blaine’s head and pushed him back against the rough brick wall, swallowing down the gasping whisper of breath that Blaine let out.
“Good enough to waste some time. Tell me, would it make you happy, baby?”
Blaine screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to keep everything but Kurt locked out of his mind. He’d been growing steadily and uncomfortably harder ever since being on the dance floor, but it only registered now, as Kurt’s hands-wet with the rain that ran across his skin in rivulets-came to rest on the buckle of his belt and Blaine’s hips automatically pushed forward.
Seemingly spurred on by the silent encouragement, Kurt made quick work of Blaine’s belt and the button fly of his jeans, yanking them to mid-thigh as he dropped to his knees. Blaine hissed at the sudden cold of the raindrops hitting his newly exposed flesh, his skin so heated that he was surprised when they didn’t simply sizzle away into nothingness. Kurt wrapped hot, damp fingers around him and glanced up from beneath thick, wet eyelashes.
Blaine bit his lip when Kurt’s mouth sank over the head of his dick, his back arching forward into the contact. The front of his shirt was freezing against his blood-warmed skin, and as Kurt pulled off slowly, teeth lightly grazing the length of him, his hips canted forward to search out more of the blissful heat of Kurt’s mouth. He watched as Kurt smiled and licked his lips, glancing up at him with a positively wolfish gleam in his eyes. It was only a second after Blaine closed his eyes that he felt himself being enveloped by that same heat, the fast and rhythmic push and drag of Kurt’s tongue along his shaft sparking simmering flames beneath the surface of his skin, and he carded his fingers through Kurt’s sopping hair before curling them into a fist and beginning to fuck Kurt’s mouth in short, shallow bursts.
Blaine dropped his chin to his chest and his eyes locked on Kurt’s, a dark thrill coursing through his veins in a heady undercurrent. Kurt grabbed him by the hips once more, pulling Blaine forward to fuck his mouth harder and deeper, and Blaine let out a guttural groan, watching himself pump between Kurt’s flushed lips. He knew he wouldn’t last long like this, with the constant cold of the rain that trickled from his scalp down the line of his neck sending chills shooting up and down his spine. He could feel the pressure already beginning to mount, a trembling in his thighs that only got stronger with every gentle rake of Kurt’s teeth, every obscene moan that resonated throughout each cell of his body, every time that he caught Kurt’s gaze still zeroed on him, his eyes so dark that they were almost ebony.
He felt the rush building fast, almost a tangible thing that he could have reached out to touch, and he gave the fistful of Kurt’s hair he was still gripping two quick tugs.
Kurt surged forward, pinning Blaine back against the wall, and the sharp flare of impact in his lower back was what sent him tumbling over the edge, releasing his hold on Kurt’s hair and scrabbling for purchase on the brick. As his orgasm tore through him, he cried out in a litany of abandoned obscenities that were consumed by the open sky.
When it all became too much, Blaine raised one heavy arm and dragged his fingertips along the side of Kurt’s neck, and he pulled off with one final, wet pop. Hands almost numbed from the cold and the aftershocks running through him, he dragged Kurt up by the shoulders of his sweater and kissed him languidly, open-mouthed and whimpering at the taste of himself on Kurt’s tongue.
Kurt chuckled as they broke apart and Blaine pitched forward, dropping his forehead to rest on Kurt’s shoulder as he tucked himself back inside his jeans with still-shaking fingers.
"That-your fucking mouth,” Blaine mumbled, feeling a rush of warmth as Kurt rubbed his upper arms. ”Where did you learn to give head like that?”
"Practice," Kurt answered with a self-satisfied grin.
“Can we…? I’m soaking.”
“Plenty of dry clothes in the R.V. A bed, too. And a couch, a chair, a floor, a shower…” Kurt said, taking a step back and holding out his hand, giving Blaine an expectant look.
Without hesitating for a single moment, Blaine slid his slick fingers between Kurt’s. As they headed out onto Jackson Street, he saw a group of girls practically falling out of the club onto the street, all singing at the top of their lungs, “And it hurts with every heartbeat.”
But this doesn’t hurt anymore, Blaine realized. Blinking rain out of his eyes, he wondered, is it almost time?
He was distracted by the flash of cab headlights turning the corner a few blocks up; just as he raised his arm to flag it down, Kurt pulled him close to kiss him, slow and indescribably sweet, and Blaine felt it all the way down to his toes. He almost forgot about the cab, but the rain lifted just enough for the sound of the approaching engine to slice its way into his muddled consciousness. He broke the kiss to fling out his arm and shout, ”Taxi!”
Kurt held the door open for him to climb inside, and once they were settled, directed the driver to the Walmart Supercenter on South 72nd with barely so much as a grimace. When the cab pulled away, windshield wipers beating dully against the rushing rain, he whispered in Blaine’s ear, “So what do you have planned for me?”
“Well… I hear there’s a bed…” Blaine began, fingers trailing the length of Kurt’s thigh.
“There is,” Kurt confirmed, voice a thick rasp.
“And a couch, a chair, a floor, a shower… Possibly even handcuffs.”
“God, just tell me.”
“Sweetheart,” Blaine said, cupping Kurt’s jaw and taking his bottom lip between his teeth. He pulled off slowly, and told him, “You have no idea.”
Distance: 9,167 miles
*
Next: South Dakota
Author: dazzlebug
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kurt and Blaine have been best friends (and nothing more) since the age of six. Now college graduates, they take a roadtrip around the USA, visiting every state in 100 days. Fifty states. Two boys. One love story.
Disclaimer: I paint the pictures; I just borrow the names.
This fic will be updated twice-weekly on Wednesdays and Sundays at 5pm EST/10pm GMT (estimated). Also available on ffnet, Tumblr, S&C and AO3 (complete chapters only). Previous chapters here.
Day 069: Saturday 24th November, 2012
Tipping (Nebraska)
“Hold it right there, Blaine Anderson.”
“I was just inches from a clean getaway!”
“I… Wait; I know this. Terms of Endearment?”
The neon lights buzzed, flickering in and out of their bright luminescence almost in time with the strobe lighting over the dance floor, and Blaine sipped his beer slowly, forearms on the railing of The Max’s upper level as he surveyed the crowd. He could see Kurt below, swaying in the center of the packed dance floor with a stranger wrapped around him. Every so often, Kurt would glance up at Blaine and smirk-it was all for show. Blaine knew Kurt was his, and though a twinge of jealousy was puddled in his gut, he paid it no mind.
Tackling Kurt around the waist in the middle of a dark and pretty spooky maze wasn’t exactly planned, but hearing him say those words-Yes, Dad. I love Blaine, too-had caused an abrupt about-turn in Blaine’s mood. The pedestal suddenly hadn’t seemed so tall.
No longer were his feelings a weight dragging behind him-now, they were an anchor, and he was biding his time. He was sure of his feelings, and he was sure of Kurt’s, but what he wasn’t sure of was how it was all going to be reconciled. It had to come to a head sooner or later, and he was growing more and more certain that, with the words almost constantly on the tip of his tongue, he would be the one to address it.
But he could wait. Kurt was an expert at dodging danger, and what they had was still cloaked in it. Blaine wasn’t about to back him into a corner; being on the road with nowhere to run except twenty feet away, it would simply be using the situation to his advantage.
Taking another sip of his beer, his eyes roved the interior of the club. He couldn’t imagine that there was any place in Omaha better for the LGBT crowd-or anyone, really, taking into account the ratio of obviously straight couples littered across the dance floor-to blow off steam on a Saturday night. The place was expansive, with different rooms playing different genres of music; the cover was low; the drinks were cheap. And the music itself… The DJ in this room was playing a mix of dance and pop, and-with the exception of an occasional foray into nineties classics, of which the currently playing Groove Is In The Heart was one-he seemed to know exactly what the people of Omaha wanted: music to lose themselves to.
The next time Blaine glanced down, Kurt was nowhere to be seen. He drained the contents of his bottle, left his spot, and made his way downstairs to the bar to wait for Kurt to come back to him-which, sooner or later, he always did. Blaine could count on at least that much.
Just as he was accepting another beer from the bartender, a familiar hand settled over his own. Kurt tipped the bottle to his own mouth and drank deeply, eyes on Blaine as he swallowed.
“Having fun out there?” Blaine asked, voice raised over the music, and Kurt smiled, leaning closer.
“I swear to God, that guy must have a dick about the size of that building we saw yesterday,” he replied, and Blaine chuckled. He could already tell that the ‘Penis of the Plains,’ as native Nebraskans referred to it, was going to be a running joke for years to come.
“Did he warn you, at least?” Blaine asked nonchalantly. “Because that’s the kind of thing you have to warn a guy about.”
Kurt tucked a finger beneath Blaine’s chin and answered him with a kiss before turning his back to the bar and leaning on his elbows. Blaine’s eyes swept downward to his long legs, the heel of one foot tapping to the beat.
“Come on,” Kurt said after a moment, fingers wrapping around Blaine’s wrist. “This song always makes me want to move.”
They wound and pushed their way through the crowd together, the press of bodies swallowing them and pushing them flush as they walked with the beat. Once Kurt had found them a spot, he looped one arm around Blaine’s waist, the fingers of his free hand playing with Blaine’s tie as he bit his lip and shimmied his shoulders back and forth.
“You’re in a good mood,” Blaine observed with a grin.
Kurt leaned down, saying directly into Blaine’s ear, “I’m dancing with you. Of course I’m in a good mood.”
“What, that other guy wasn’t keeping you happy?” Blaine joked.
“You’ve got moves, remember?” Kurt answered, before scrunching his face and shooting him a look. “Too soon?”
Blaine shook his head; Delaware was far enough in the rear view that they could laugh about it. “Speaking of moves, mister,” he said, “I haven’t seen the patented Kurt Hummel shimmy since senior prom.”
“The classics never go out of style,” Kurt quipped, furrowing his brow and circling his hips into Blaine’s.
Blaine’s hands slid around to Kurt’s ass, giving back as good as he was getting. If either of them left this dance floor without an uncomfortable hard-on, it would be a miracle.
“Have you ever thought about being tied up?” Kurt said into his ear, quite unexpectedly; Blaine groaned and dropped his head to Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt chuckled, and asked, “Should I take that as a yes?”
“Okay, A) where did that even come from, and B) do we have anything in the R.V.?”
“It was just something I was thinking about last night. I might have a pair of handcuffs somewhere.”
“You don’t need to tell me why,” Blaine managed, turning his head and grazing the line of Kurt’s neck with his teeth.
When he raised his head again, it was to see the lights coming up before dropping straight back down; he caught the briefest, arresting glimpse of irises awash in stormy blue. It was the same shade that Blaine now associated with those moments when Kurt’s breathing would speed up right before he came.
“What about some classic Blaine moves?” Kurt asked with a nudge, pulling Blaine back to himself. “Because I remember a certain sixteen-year-old version of you jumping on the desks in Mrs. Beck’s History class, singing Robin Thicke to that poor kid-“
“There aren’t any desks in here,” Blaine interrupted smoothly, his finger against Kurt’s lips.
Kurt twisted his head away, put his mouth to Blaine’s ear and rolled his earlobe between his teeth. In a low voice that Blaine struggled to hear over the music, he sang, “When I get you, you’ll know, babe…”
“Shut up,” Blaine groaned, turning to catch Kurt’s lips in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss.
As the electric intensity of Goldfrapp’s Strict Machine coiled its way through the crowd toward them, strong hands bruised their grasp into Blaine’s hips, and he found himself being turned around to face the rest of the clubbers.
Shivering despite his sky-rocketing body heat, Blaine dropped his head back to rest on Kurt’s shoulder and turned his head to speak directly into his ear. On an inhale, he caught the scent of Hugo Boss intermingled with a tang of sweat, and as Kurt’s arms crept around his middle to pull him closer, he barely held back a groan of approval. ”This definitely isn’t how we did it at prom,” he finally said, reaching back to cup his fingers to the nape of Kurt’s neck.
"What do you want tonight?" Kurt purred. There was a deep, thrilling undertone to his voice and Blaine pressed his forehead to the heat of Kurt’s neck, body becoming more and more relaxed as he found the pattern of the beat and gave himself over to it. Kurt’s fingertips slid between the buttons of Blaine’s shirt, contracting and pressing into the skin of his torso, and he hooked two fingers into a belt loop to pull Blaine even closer, almost as if he was trying to fuse and meld them into a single entity, one made up of a symbiotic, rhythmic give and take. They moved together as the song continued, the bass running dirty and low and so synthesized that it kept them suspended in surroundings of nothing but the feeling of body on body. "Tell me what you want."
Blaine wound his fingers up into Kurt’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and tugging so that Kurt met his gaze. He circled his hips back in time with the two sweeps of bass that preceded the second bridge, thrilling at his own approximation of wonderful electric as it set his every nerve aflame with Kurt’s full mouth inching closer, closer, closer until his eyes blurred and shuttered, because this was what Blaine wanted.
He wanted the feeling of the firm, assured body moving in time with his own. He wanted the surprising and welcome gentility of the first kiss, and then for it to turn to pure filth soon after. He wanted the dance floor to momentarily swim beneath his feet as Kurt flipped him back around so that they faced one another, lips breaking apart before crushing together once more. He wanted these worshipping hands running the lines and planes of him, hairs standing on end as he surrendered and moaned and poured heat into a kiss that seared him with its obscenity. He wanted this contact, this touch, this sensation of his axis tilting further and further forward.
"I want you," he all but groaned into Kurt’s ear after one last sweep of his tongue along Kurt’s lower lip, eyes opening into sharper focus with the song’s fade into a punchy remix of Robyn’s With Every Heartbeat.
Not this song, Blaine almost whined aloud. He couldn’t have this song ringing in his ears when he’d only just found his footing in this crazy mindfuck of a situation.
Kurt tensed against him and mouthed, Come with me. Blaine happily took Kurt’s hand and left his thoughts on the dance floor. The song followed them, however, as Kurt led him from the main room and out through the main hallway to the doors of the nightclub complex. They were running, taking a right as soon as they were outside. Kurt pulled him into a narrow, dark alley, and Blaine hesitated halfway with Kurt’s hand still tangled up in his own. It was starting to rain, and he took in deep lungfuls of freezing air to soothe his racing heart and the rush of blood in his ears before it all continued on its journey south.
"Hey," Kurt said softly, thumb rubbing back and forth over Blaine’s knuckles as he took a step forward. Kurt closed the space between them and tilted Blaine’s chin upward with a gentle hand, and Blaine felt a ghost of breath exhaled across his lips just before Kurt recaptured his mouth in a slow, deep kiss.
“Maybe we can make it happen, baby,” Blaine heard from inside, his mind filling in what was muffled through brick and mortar. “We could keep trying but things will never change.”
It was mere moments until the heavens truly opened overhead; the rain fell in fat drops onto his skin and Blaine fell with them, giving himself over entirely. He pressed his palms into the small of Kurt’s back to pull him in closer, and god-he could have cried with the rightness of it all: Kurt’s lips reaffirming a daily claim; Kurt’s body pressing tightly against him; Kurt’s love coursing into his own bloodstream.
“Okay?” Kurt breathed, and Blaine nodded quickly.
Grinning, Kurt curved his palm to the back of Blaine’s head and pushed him back against the rough brick wall, swallowing down the gasping whisper of breath that Blaine let out.
“Good enough to waste some time. Tell me, would it make you happy, baby?”
Blaine screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to keep everything but Kurt locked out of his mind. He’d been growing steadily and uncomfortably harder ever since being on the dance floor, but it only registered now, as Kurt’s hands-wet with the rain that ran across his skin in rivulets-came to rest on the buckle of his belt and Blaine’s hips automatically pushed forward.
Seemingly spurred on by the silent encouragement, Kurt made quick work of Blaine’s belt and the button fly of his jeans, yanking them to mid-thigh as he dropped to his knees. Blaine hissed at the sudden cold of the raindrops hitting his newly exposed flesh, his skin so heated that he was surprised when they didn’t simply sizzle away into nothingness. Kurt wrapped hot, damp fingers around him and glanced up from beneath thick, wet eyelashes.
Blaine bit his lip when Kurt’s mouth sank over the head of his dick, his back arching forward into the contact. The front of his shirt was freezing against his blood-warmed skin, and as Kurt pulled off slowly, teeth lightly grazing the length of him, his hips canted forward to search out more of the blissful heat of Kurt’s mouth. He watched as Kurt smiled and licked his lips, glancing up at him with a positively wolfish gleam in his eyes. It was only a second after Blaine closed his eyes that he felt himself being enveloped by that same heat, the fast and rhythmic push and drag of Kurt’s tongue along his shaft sparking simmering flames beneath the surface of his skin, and he carded his fingers through Kurt’s sopping hair before curling them into a fist and beginning to fuck Kurt’s mouth in short, shallow bursts.
Blaine dropped his chin to his chest and his eyes locked on Kurt’s, a dark thrill coursing through his veins in a heady undercurrent. Kurt grabbed him by the hips once more, pulling Blaine forward to fuck his mouth harder and deeper, and Blaine let out a guttural groan, watching himself pump between Kurt’s flushed lips. He knew he wouldn’t last long like this, with the constant cold of the rain that trickled from his scalp down the line of his neck sending chills shooting up and down his spine. He could feel the pressure already beginning to mount, a trembling in his thighs that only got stronger with every gentle rake of Kurt’s teeth, every obscene moan that resonated throughout each cell of his body, every time that he caught Kurt’s gaze still zeroed on him, his eyes so dark that they were almost ebony.
He felt the rush building fast, almost a tangible thing that he could have reached out to touch, and he gave the fistful of Kurt’s hair he was still gripping two quick tugs.
Kurt surged forward, pinning Blaine back against the wall, and the sharp flare of impact in his lower back was what sent him tumbling over the edge, releasing his hold on Kurt’s hair and scrabbling for purchase on the brick. As his orgasm tore through him, he cried out in a litany of abandoned obscenities that were consumed by the open sky.
When it all became too much, Blaine raised one heavy arm and dragged his fingertips along the side of Kurt’s neck, and he pulled off with one final, wet pop. Hands almost numbed from the cold and the aftershocks running through him, he dragged Kurt up by the shoulders of his sweater and kissed him languidly, open-mouthed and whimpering at the taste of himself on Kurt’s tongue.
Kurt chuckled as they broke apart and Blaine pitched forward, dropping his forehead to rest on Kurt’s shoulder as he tucked himself back inside his jeans with still-shaking fingers.
"That-your fucking mouth,” Blaine mumbled, feeling a rush of warmth as Kurt rubbed his upper arms. ”Where did you learn to give head like that?”
"Practice," Kurt answered with a self-satisfied grin.
“Can we…? I’m soaking.”
“Plenty of dry clothes in the R.V. A bed, too. And a couch, a chair, a floor, a shower…” Kurt said, taking a step back and holding out his hand, giving Blaine an expectant look.
Without hesitating for a single moment, Blaine slid his slick fingers between Kurt’s. As they headed out onto Jackson Street, he saw a group of girls practically falling out of the club onto the street, all singing at the top of their lungs, “And it hurts with every heartbeat.”
But this doesn’t hurt anymore, Blaine realized. Blinking rain out of his eyes, he wondered, is it almost time?
He was distracted by the flash of cab headlights turning the corner a few blocks up; just as he raised his arm to flag it down, Kurt pulled him close to kiss him, slow and indescribably sweet, and Blaine felt it all the way down to his toes. He almost forgot about the cab, but the rain lifted just enough for the sound of the approaching engine to slice its way into his muddled consciousness. He broke the kiss to fling out his arm and shout, ”Taxi!”
Kurt held the door open for him to climb inside, and once they were settled, directed the driver to the Walmart Supercenter on South 72nd with barely so much as a grimace. When the cab pulled away, windshield wipers beating dully against the rushing rain, he whispered in Blaine’s ear, “So what do you have planned for me?”
“Well… I hear there’s a bed…” Blaine began, fingers trailing the length of Kurt’s thigh.
“There is,” Kurt confirmed, voice a thick rasp.
“And a couch, a chair, a floor, a shower… Possibly even handcuffs.”
“God, just tell me.”
“Sweetheart,” Blaine said, cupping Kurt’s jaw and taking his bottom lip between his teeth. He pulled off slowly, and told him, “You have no idea.”
Distance: 9,167 miles
*
Next: South Dakota